"Dusty the Church Dog and other sightings of the gospel" is now available in paperback and Kindle form at Amazon. This is a collection of various Occasional Sightings of the Gospel written over the last 7-8 years. If you would like a personalized copy, please send me an email, and we will work out the details. I hope folks like the book.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Dusty the Church Dog never met a bad day. If itwas snowing, that meant
going down to thenearby elementary school and racing around thefields;
it meant making doggy snow angels inthe front yard, and catching snowballs
no matterhow hard they were thrown. If it was raining,it meant
splashing through puddles, and rollingin the front yard until he was soaked
to the skin.If it was a crisp fall day, it meant walking downaround the
lake (and the campground with thegreat smells) looking for the Biscuit Lady,
whoalways had treats for him. If it was a clear springday, there was
nothing better than sitting onthe lawn smelling the leaves uncurling,
thedandelions poking their heads up out of thesky, the birds building
their nests in the trees.

Dusty the Church Dog never met a personhe
didn't immediately like and turn into hisnew BFF. From the curmudgeonly
neighborwho always had a frown on his face and acomplaint on his lips to
the little kid tryingout his bicycle with training wheels, Dustyjust had
to meet them, had to greet them,had to turn their day into the
tail-waggingestone they had ever had. He enjoyed meetingother dogs,
especially the little guys in theneighborhood, and managed to give a
wideberth to any cats he met. Squirrels alwaysfound a tree to run up,
rabbits always seemedto bounce further when they saw him, anddeer
utterly confused him.

Dusty the Church Dog touched lives in waysin
which I can only dream of doing. He wouldturn those big brown eyes towards
the face ofthe woman sitting in the hallway at the nursinghome, and her
face would beam with delight.He read books by the dozens to kids on
Thursdaymornings and taught them how much fun it wasto catch a carrot in
midair and crunch it to pieces.He showed incredible patience in waiting for
histurn at the ice cream place (but don't try to jumpthe line in front
of him!), and he gave unconditionallove and acceptance to everyone he met,
even ifsimply passing on the street.

Dusty the Church Dog was my
confidant, my trustedcompanion, my faithful sidekick, my window intothe
the grace, the love, the wonder, the power, thejoy of God which is always
around us. He was theone who got me out of bed to listen to the
geeseflying south. He was the one who taught me thatthere is always
something to experience, someoneto meet, some marvelous delight just waiting
aroundthe next corner. He was the one who couldn't waitto experience
the next moment which was cominginto his life. He was the one who got me
throughsome of the toughest days of ministry, of ourstruggles with
Teddy, of life itself.

Sadly, Dusty the Church Dog finally met
somethingthat didn't love him, that wouldn't give in to hissilly smile
and gentle nature, that wouldn't let himkeep going through this life. A
tumor on his spleenthat was causing internal bleeding meant that
thosewho loved him so much and would miss him beyondany possible words
could describe, had to help himcross that Rainbow Bridge into peace,
gentleness,and everlasting joy. So, about an hour ago, we heldhim,
hugged him, whispered our thanks to him ashe closed his eyes once last time
this side of life.

And you will never, ever convince me that the
wetstreets and sidewalks we discovered when wecame out of the vet's
office were simply from apassing rain shower.

Friday, June 21, 2013

Like the psalmist, I pant . . . for more intimate time with God, for
fewer distractions, for a life that is more settled and focused.

I
think that is why, when I had the chance years ago, to begin my renewal time
with a month at the Abbey of Gethsemane; why I try to return there at least
once a year; why I try to carve out more silence for myself (but often
fail in the attempt!). That's probably why I try to intentionally build silence into any worship service.

Yet I am starting to recognize that
in promoting such silence, in holding up the reading from First Kings 19 as
'The Template' for such a desire and longing in one's life, that I am saying
to people that the only way to hear God, the only place to find God, is
in the silence.

It was true for Elijah in that moment, place, and
time in his life. It is true for me in moments at the Abbey and on quiet
walks. But it is not true for every moment, every place, every time, every person.

Sometimes I need the tempests of God, which rattle the
windows of my soul and wake me up in the muddle of the night. Sometimes I
need God to grab my heart and shake me until all the 'stuff' I have accumulated over the years falls off the shelves and breaks. Sometimes I
need the heat of God's passion for the poor, the lost, the oppressed to sear
my jaded conscience and get me working for justice and
righteousness.

When I was a teenager, and listening to the radio,
the disc jockey would sometimes play a record. I might like the song, it
might speak to me, it might bore me to tears. But then came those magical words, 'and now, on the flip side . . .'

Sometimes God speaks in the
wind, the earthquake, the fire. And then there is silence - that marvelous,
gorgeous, longed-for gift - which I couldn't understand if I didn't
listen to the flip side as well.
(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman